


it's a damn good day to my way of mind

by Lauren (notalwaysweak)



Series: Four-Color Love (A Comic Book Romance) [6]
Category: The Big Bang Theory (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 08:31:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amber's prompt was: Stuart and Raj's first Comic-Con as a couple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's a damn good day to my way of mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afullmargin (anemptymargin)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemptymargin/gifts).



> Because I am crazy obsessed and have an actual calendar, Comic-Con 2013 is about a week after 'you dove in and you're still breathing', in case you were wondering. I tried something new here in that I went for a narrative-only piece; that means no falling back on snappy dialogue when I got stuck. I hope it worked.
> 
> Disclaimer: If I could petition to take custody of any copyrighted characters, it would be these two. As it is, Chuck Lorre owns them; may I outlive him by 71 years, if you know what I mean.
> 
> * * *

Stuart only realizes when Raj gives him a particularly worried look that he’s chewed clean through the end of his pencil. The Avengers sketches he’s doing to put up on the booth aren’t coming out right and his exhibitor’s pass is late arriving and it’s just too damn soon in this relationship to dump any of it on Raj.

Except Raj, being Raj, doesn’t let him be closed-mouthed about it. Raj gets him to talk, asks him if he’ll need help driving stuff to San Diego, and finds his eraser where he dropped it under his desk.

By the time they’re watching TV and eating dinner that night, Stuart is in a much better mood about the whole Comic-Con thing.

 

Raj, being Raj, also won’t let him pike out on costumes, even though he’s going to be sitting in a booth the whole time and he’s hardly booth babe material. According to him, at least. According to Raj, he’s now donning Hawaiian shirts and styling his hair to play Wash from Firefly. Not just any old shirts, either, but ones Raj has picked up for him to be as canon-compliant as possible, and also a necklace featuring two battling plastic dinosaurs strung on leather.

Whenever he asks Raj who he’s playing, Raj just winks enigmatically and refuses to answer. Stuart’s seen Raj’s Comic-Con costume collection. He’s pretty sure he knows who Raj is playing if he’s playing Wash. If Raj wants to cross-play, that’s fine with him. He’s been going to cons for long enough to know it’s not exactly strange behavior, even if the outside world might not agree.

 

He switches focus after Raj talks him into playing Wash, scrapping the Avengers pictures and drawing Firefly characters instead, and the work comes easier with the different goal. And after all, he’s not angling for a spot in Artists’ Alley - just something to pretty up the booth when his neat displays have been racked and ruined by a herd of customers.

 

When the deliveries of con stock come in he’s infinitely more grateful than ever that he’s living with Raj again. He still feels like he’s a burden, knows he’s not paying his proper share of the rent and bills, but considering how much of the back room the boxes take up he’d rather be a drag for a while than attempt to sleep standing up in the toilet, which is pretty much the only clear space.

As well as the art, which is fun work, he has to plan the booth layout to maximize display space in the small area that he has. Every year he wonders if it’s worth the time and effort and money, and every year he gets swept up in the busyness of it all and even if he can’t get away from the booth for more than a toilet break or a bite to eat, he still sees a lot from behind the counter.

Raj watches him sketching out the booth layout and writing out his timetable, and then wanders into the kitchen and starts opening and closing cupboard doors. Stuart doesn’t ask why, lost in a miasma of numbers: square footage, price lists, hours and minutes, the times for the panels he wishes he could see and probably won’t.

 

Setting up is ever so much easier with a willing set of helping hands. Just when he’s at the point where he wants to sit down and put his head on the table and maybe thump it a few times to rattle his brains back into working order, those hands whisk the flimsy curtain closed across the front of the booth, and then land on his shoulders, guiding him into the seat before working out the knots in his neck and spine. His soft grateful groans are lost in the general Sound of Con; people yelling across the echoing space, something dropping and smashing, someone consequently swearing.

The booth is ready far faster than usual, with two, even taking into consideration the distractions that having his boyfriend in such close proximity provides. They may only have been sleeping together for a short while, but Raj seems intent on proving the label of exhibitionist that Stuart jokingly tagged him with.

His legs are shaking by the time Raj is done with him.

 

The first official day of the con drags by as if he’s just as single and lonely as ever; though thousands of people pass through the exhibition hall, he recognizes almost none of them, and for some reason they just aren’t as interested in some unknown comic seller as they are in the actual artists. He’s at least gotten a few compliments on his outfit and on the pictures hanging around the booth. One cute Kaylee even sits for a quick portrait, which makes him smile; he hasn’t done paid portraits in a while, but she’s so happy with it that maybe it’s time to start again.

But then people start drifting off to panels or for food or whatever, and Stuart fishes out his brown-bagged lunch. He at least found out why Raj was mooching around the kitchen so much; he has a a day’s worth of snacks and drinks and sandwiches in the cooler under the table, and there are more goodies waiting back in their hotel room.

After eating, he goes back to sitting and waiting for customers. His pencil moves across the paper almost unconsciously, sketching whatever comes to mind.

Then Raj is standing in front of him and Stuart’s pencil snaps in half.

Long dark curls; long dark eyelashes; full lips accentuated by a touch of pink. A tight leather vest over a three-quarter sleeved brown top. The V-neck splits enticingly to show off a shadow of cleavage; he’s not going to question that, just stare at it. Raj’s fawn pants are skintight, the holster strapped to his thigh only emphasizing what he’s not hiding very well under the close-fitting fabric. Knee-high boots complete the ensemble. Stuart’s seen women who don’t make as convincing a Zoë.

Raj doesn’t say anything, just does a slow 360∘ turn in front of the booth, a sly smile on his face as he stops and plants his hands on his hips, waiting for Stuart’s reaction.

Stuart doesn’t say anything either. He just yanks Raj by the front of the shirt into the booth, and this time he’s the one who drags the curtain shut, to the sound of a wolf-whistle and smattering of applause from somewhere that, as Raj’s mouth finds his, is increasingly far away.


End file.
